/' 





un • 

S3. 

n- » 

LT • 

n- 
i_r- 
n_ 
u~ • 
n_' ' 

n- 







525ffi25ffilg 



1). .! 



S2SHS2Se5 



/:' 












THISTLE-DOWN. 



THISTLE-DOWN 




ESMERALDA BOYLE. 



PHILADELPHIA : 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 
1871. 






\^ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by 
ESMERALDA V O Y L E, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 



0y 



ir»o 



»\or 



wM 



29 \9\^ 



CON T E N r S. 





rAf;n 


To a Picture 


9 


June 


lO 


To a Bird ......... 


12 


One Little Kiss 


'5 


To My Mother ........ 


1 8 


•♦ One Faith, One King, One Law" .... 


20 


A Sand-Bar ........ 


21 


Falling Leaves ........ 


25 


A Farewell 


. 26 


To Sr. M. Dc Chantal 


2S 


For a Friend ........ 


. 29 


Songs of Birds and Plowers 


• .31 




• 33 


Written after Reading a Sad Story .... 


35 


Suggested by a Pictured ".Scene on llie Rhine" . 


37 


My Angel 


• 39 




40 


A New-Year Rhyme ....... 


4« 



(V) 



VI 



CONTENTS. 



Let Her Name Rest ..... 

The Evening Star, Wrecked October 2, 1866 

Lilian's I^ove 

Agnes 

May Blossoms . 

One who Passed Away 

Vespertine . 

The Truth and Vou . 

In Memoriam — Dr. Charles McCormick, M.D. 

Snow-Drifts 

April Rain-Drops 

Too Late . 

Starward . 

A Note of Remembrance 

Au Revoir . 

Salve Regina 

Justice 

Pilgrims of the Past . 

An Evening Sketch 

Paul — Five Poems 

Love's Lesson . 

A Kiss for Ellie . 

To the Young Moon . 

An Unfinished Story . 

Near a Country Graveyard 



PAGE 

43 
45 
47 
50 
52 
53 
54 
55 
57 
5S 

59 
62 

63 
64 
66 
68 
69 
72 
78 
So 
90 
94 

05 
06 
00 



CONTENTS. 



Vll 





PACE 


After the Battle 


. lOI 


To Ella Sturgis ....... 


. 102 


A Fragment ....... 


. 104 


To My Sister 


. 105 


To a Friend 


. 107 


Poor Little Lisbeth 


. 109 


Shadows ........ 


. 112 


Spring ........ 


. 113 


To Mrs. M. L. L. Zanc 


. 115 


September Notes — To W. W. Corcoran, K^q. 


. 119 


Good-Bye to 1869 


. 124 


Thoughts of Other Days 


. 126 


My Cecil and I 


. 128 


Autumn Leaves ....... 


. 129 


A Christmas-Eve Story 


131 


In Memonam — Florence Tcmpleman Jones 


• 135 


"No Matter" 


. 136 


After the Rain 


• ^Zl 


"God's Providence is Our Inheritance" 


' 139 


In Memoriam — Capt. J. J. Henry . . . . 


. 140 


For Easter- Sun day 


• 143 


A Song — To F. B. Chew ...... 


• 145 


A Glove that was Fastened . . . . . 


. I40 


" Love Calls the Way" 


148 


Our King 


• 149 



Vlll 



CONTENTS. 



Through the Twilight 


• 151 


Our Lady of Loretto . 


• 152 


A Prayer for France . 


• 154 


Nellie 


• 155 


A Rainbow .... 


156 


A Simple Rhyme 


159 




TO A PICTURE. 

By thine eye, so softly brown, 
Never darkened with a frown. 
And above that tender eye 
Forehead broail, and nobly high, — 
I love thee ! 

By that mouth of sweetest mould. 
That to me but sweetness told. 
In the words so calm, so dear, 
That full often blest mine ear, — 
I love thee ! 

By that hand in days of yore 
That I held, shall hold no more ; 
By that heart where ever blend 
Generous truths ; my brother, friend, 
I love thee I 



(9) 



JUNE. 

The portal of Summer stands open before us, 
The halls are illumed by a glad sunny ray ; 

O'er the threshold comes June, with a smile like the 
morning, 
And follows the steps of the beaming young May. 

The zephyrs are lifting with light fairy fingers 

The robe of bright green that is floating round June, 

As her white feet are dancing through valley and 
meadow, 
To the stream's merry music, the fountain's gay tune. 

Oh,^thc roses, the roses are deeper than crimson : 
They circle her brow, and her rich amber hair ; 

They open their hearts to the lips of the Summer, 
And yield up their breath in the gold-winnowed air. 

The bird-voices called her away from the dreaming 
p{ flowers and butterflies coming full soon ; 

They waked her with twitters of musical pleasure : 
** O, open your eyes to us, beautiful June !" 

(lO) 



All, could wc detain her? How quickly she fleeteth ! 

We turn to the paths where she flitted along, 
But we look all in vain, for the sylph has departed ; 

We hold in our memory, — a flower — a song : 

Ah, June I there are roses thou ne'er canst regather, 
All faded, and fallen, and wasted their breath — 

Our friends are the roses adorning our gardens, 
The chill that falls over their lives we call death. 

Oh ! redder than roses that blossom and wither, 
The loves of the hearts that lie buried for aye 

In the arms of the spring-time, the bosom of summer, 
Enfolded by autumns now drifted away. 



TO A BIRD. 

Sweeter thou than all the poets 

That liave sung ! 
Mellow are the lyrics ringing 

From thy tongue ! 
Wondrous warbler, robed in feathers 

Jet and gold ! 
Precious gems the tiniest caskets 

Surely hold. 
Vainly may earth's boasted artists 

Hope or sigh 
E'er to deck their loveliest pictures 

With such dye ! 
Who, of mortal masters, ever 

Wrought such things? 
Made a golden song, and gave it 

Fhishing wings? 
Think we, as we hear thy singing, 

All day long, 
Only God, the Artist jpai?iteth 

Such a song ! 



(12) 



TO A /UA'/). 

I will weave a little romance 

For thee, bird, 
From the waifs of fairy leL^ends 

I have heard. 
Once a Peri, doomed to penance 

For a wrong, 
Sought forgiveness of her monarch 

In a song, — 
Wrought a strain of wildest music, 

Rare and sweet, 
Laid it low amid the violets 

At her feet. 
There, beneath a net of dew-drops, 

On the ground. 
Sang the music, like a spirit 

Jewel-bound. 
Through the world the Peri wandered 

From her lay. 
Found a sad, lone bird, enchanted 

By a Fay. 
So she brought her song and sang it 

To the bird, 
And it raised its voice and warbled 

What it heard. 
Music of the bird and Peri 

Echoes woke, 
And the cruel Fay's enchanting 
Bond was broke. 



'3 



14 



TO A BIRD. 

And the king forgave the Peri 

Her great wrong, 
And with gold he decked the singer 

Of the song. 
Thou the songster that I sing of, 

Thine the lay, 
Cheering all the dismal moments 

Of the day, 
Filling all the vacant places 

In my heart : 
Golden singer, stay beside me. 

Ne'er depart ! 



ONE LITTLE KISS. 

Flitting back and forth o'er the grass 

The sunlight fell, 
Like spears of gold, through aspen-leaves 

Shading the dell. 
The grass was green, the oriole sang 

A heartful tune. 
As Claude and Clare gave love for love 

One day in June. 
Unheard the song-gush in tlie tree ! 

The oriole sung : 
How love was earned, a brood was reared, 

A nest was hung ! 
The zephyrs through the shaking leaves 

Bent low to Clare, 
And lifted up the waifs and curls 

Of flaxen hair. 
The woodbine swept the verdant sward 

Whereon they sat. 
And stirred with fickle, fragrant touch 
Each rustic hat, 

(15) 



t6 o.ye r.rrrr.F. av.ss. 

The while Claude's heart spoke from its deeps 

"^J'hat summer day, 
And vows were uttered gentler far 

Than oriole's lay ! 
The hours went by, and left them in 

The mossy fold. 
The gold upon the summer's green, 

Life's green and gold ! 
But when the sun was slanting down 

Unto the west, 
Then Claude arose and walked by her 

He loved the best. 
They trod now in the winding path, 

Next through the grass, 
Beside the meadow-stream that shone 

As shining glass. 
At last he stood ; she silent sat 

Upon the stile. 
And round her lips, in lovely gleams, 

There crept a smile. 
Her gaze was resting on the flowers, 

Full fair and sweet. 
That raised their winsome faces up 

Against her feet. 
Claude fondly took within his own 

Her slender hand, 
And on her tiny finger slipped 
A golden band. 



OXK LITTLE KISS. 17 

Then miinnurol Claude, ''What may I daini 

Of Clare for this?" 
She raised her smiling mouth, and said, 

''One little kiss!" 
Another kiss? The world was robed 

Tn rosy pink, 
As down behind the hills the sun 

Began to sink. 
Another kiss ! And then the stars 

Came out to look. 
And gave a wink for every kiss 

The lover took. 



Both now are dead \ Two graves are there 

Beside the brook. 
The grass is long. The shadows lie 

Across the nook. 
The stars that told this tale to me 

Do ne'er forget ; 
They count and count, in golden winks, 

Those kisses, yet. 
The oriole often windeth through 

His happy song 
The love of Clare, the love of Claude, 

Untouched of wrong. 



TO MY MOTHER. 

I AM in a (Ircaniv mood: 
Out before me lies the wood, 

Upright trees ami fair. 
And through all the openings pass, 
Over flowers, through the grass, 

Little breaths of air. 
Up among the boughs and twigs, 
Rustling leaves and tender sprigs. 

Birds are sinLfini: hi^h. 
Through the space, half in a tranre. 
Outward now and then I glance 

To the summer skv ; 
And the clouds that come and go. 
Arc like whitest banks of snow 

Formed by sidelong drifts. 
Now I see a band of blue 
Or a gold bar sliding through 

All the narrow rifts. 
Every hill is spread with green, 
And tile valleys down between 

Arc lull, cool, and deep. 
( IS) 



TO MY MOTHER. 

TIktc iIk' waters slip along, 
With a rustic tale or song, 

Where the shadows sleep. 
Past the bending willow-trees, 
Fraught with olden melodies, 

Rappahannock flows ; 
Down among the rocks and stones, 
Making little sighs and moans. 

On and on it goes. 
Downward bend the blades of grass, 
Kissing ripples as they pass 

Onward to the sea, 
As this rhyming message goes, 
As this simple ballad flows, 

From my heart to thee. 



19 



ONE FAITH, ONE KING, ONE LAW." 

Brimful of blessings as the sun that shines 

Between the tears of April through the blue, 
My spirit softly whispers from these lines, 

God give you grace, and keep you always true ! 
True to the faith that points forever up 

And leads us in the straight and narrow way, 
And turns our lips from Pleasure's glittering cup: 

To-morrow is the Crown, the Cross to-day, 

Ah! choose you, in the rosy days of youth, 

A law to guide you fair through everything, 
And make your heart a i)alace for the Truth, 

And there let Truth forever reign a King ! 
The King ! the King of all most right and great, 

And all most beautiful and pure and good ! 
And round the monarch in his royal state 

Will ring sweet Peace and all her sisterhood. 



( 20 



A SAND-BAR. 

A NARROW bar of sand outstretched lay; 
From life, from death, 'twas lying far away, — 
As youth from age, as night is from the day, 
December's snow from rosy wreaths of May. 



As flies a l)ird in spring to some lone tree 
Within a leaf-bound nook, where birdlings be, 
A fairy shallop darted o'er the sea, 
Like to a petrel, white and swift and free ! 

The sea was rough, the sky with dullness spread, 
And every star behind a cloud had fled: 
All cold and pale, as if her soul were dead, 
A maiden sat near to the shallop's head. 

Her hands were filled with flowers of the West, 
As she had gone through all the woods in quest 
Of wild, sweet things that find their life and rest 
Upon fair mother Nature's gracious breast. 

3 (21 ) 



2 2 A SAXD-BAK. 

The flowers she held we call '' forget-me-not," 
And *' fairy flax," — a gem — a tiny dot 
That grew upon some mossy, sun-fleck' d spot, 
Or by the pathway to a woodland cot. 



And as the blossoms, dampened yet with dew, 
That, like an Easter sky, were fairest blue, 
Her eyes, as fair as they, were azure too ! 
But, looking up, they lost their wild-flower hue. 

And azure tints in hazel shadows float. 

As two stray flowers in a castle moat. 

A youth, with folded arms, who stood remote 

Within the narrow ending of the boat. 

Bent down his look upon her upturned face ; 
It filled her heart and all the outward space 
Of life between her life and his life's place, 
As floods a tearful soul God-given grace. 

The waves grew calm ; no ocean murmur spake, 
The heart- and soul-entrancing bonds to break ; 
All peaceful as a hill-imprisoned lake. 
Save chasing foam that followed in the wake. 



A SAXD-B.lk'. 23 

Upon those sands, where nauglit of eartlidoes dwell, 
Where magic songs of sirens ever swell, 
Amid the curled sea-weed and pearly shell, 
The footsteps of the youth and maiden fell. 

** We'll meet again !" he clasped her hand, and spoke; 
His voice deep through the untouched silence broke, 
As through a wave an oarsman's steady stroke, 
And all her heart in sudden wonder woke. 



Now statue-like upon the foam-wreathed sands 
The maiden through the spring and summer stands ; 
The gathered blooms that erst were in her hands 
Float from her o'er the deep to other lands. 

The boat has sped as speeds an arrow fleet ! 

As speeds fair Hope, whose breath and song are 

sweet ; 
Across the shell-strewn bar the billows meet, 
And with deceitful kisses kiss her feet. 

And morning, noon, and evening sees her there, 
Her gaze upon the sea, her face still fair ; 
The breaths of roses red, with spices rare. 
Caressing her sad lips and floating hair. 



24 



.'/ SAA'DBAR. 



And, swift as wavelets o'er the glassy main, 
Across her face float hope, and doubt, and pain, 
Up from her heart, that whispers: ''All in vain! 
The shallop's gone, and will not come again." 



FALLING LEAVES. 

One by one the leaves are falling 

On the chilly ground : 
All the hopes I've been recalling 

Perish at the sound. 

Once those leaves were green and tender, 

Trembling in delight 
At the gentle touch of Summer : 

Now behold their plight ! 

Thus it is with all the hopings 

That a heart can wear : 
Every fondly-cherished longing 

Underlies a care. 

Though the sun be brightly glancing, 

Young leaves will decay ; 
And the gladness of a youth-time 

Passes thus away. 



3* ( 25 ) 



A FAREWELL. 

Adieu to thee, beloved ! 

Forever there will dwell 
A sob of wildest anguish 

Within the word Farewell ! 

I hear the echo ringing, 

Like deep-toned convent bell, 

That tells a soul's departure 
And bids the world farewell. 

Through silent midnight watches, 
They come o'er hill and dell. 

The woRis thy dear lips uttered : 
"Beloved one, farewell !" 

Thou didst not think, in going, 

To sound the solemn knell 
That will not cease its tolling — 
' ' Beloved one, fluewell ! ' ' 
(26) 



•/ FA R EWE r J. 



Ah ! piercinp; through my spirit 
Upon my heart they fell, 

Ami branded there forever, 
"Beloved one, farewell!" 



27 



TO SR. M. DE CHANTAL. 



CONVENT OF VISITATION B. V. M. 
After Gerald Griffin. 

A PRAYER for the rest of my spirit 

Is all that I crave ! 
Refuse not^ O thou who canst give it, 

When I'm in the grave. 

But ask, as a beggar imploring 

For bread or for pence. 
The Lord of thine heart and adoring, 

When I shall go hence. 

To God thou art nearer and higher 

Than I can e'er be ! 
Refuse not mine earnest desire : 

Pray often for me ! 

(2S) 



FOR A FRIEND. 

'TwAS in a day of Spring, — not in the Summer, — 
And in the flush of evening too, I think, 

The blinds were bowed, I saw the garden past them, 
And in the sky a tender bhish of pink. 

But I forgot the garden and its roses, 

And I forgot the sky's more rosy hue. 
When, bending down, you caught my hand and mur- 
mured, 

''The parting time has come to me and you." 

But when you went, no tear rolled down unbidden, 
Not in my heart a tear-drop found its way ; 

For ah, I thought, The Spring has its returning. 
And with the birds my friend will come, and stay. 



A little while has made you sad, and older. 

And changed the look of hope you used to wear. 

For one of earnest gazing towards the future. 
As if some thing you loved were hidden there. 

(29) 



30 FOR A FRIEXD. 

A sorrow that the world may not discover 

Has wrought this change that's pictured in your 
face; 

From out your crown a precious gem has fallen, 
A jewel that the world might not replace ! 

But if the prayers I pray for you are answered, 
Then all the hopes you hoped on earth in vain. 

Yes, every jewel that your heart most treasured, 
In heaven shall be restored to you again. 



SONGS OF BIRDS AND FLOWERS. 

The sun was tingeing every leaf with gold, 

That else were green, 
And casting on the murmuring brook 

Its golden sheen. 

And from the fold of clustering green 

Out rang a lay, 
The voice of song from little birds, 

The songs of May. 

And down below the songs of birds. 

But sweet as they, 
A whisper ran and floated on 

The breeze away. 

White as the wings of angels glittering in the sky. 
Bright as the stars of summer looking from on high. 
Flowers that deck the woodland and in the lowlands 
lie. 

(31) 



32 SONGS OF BIRDS AND FLOWERS. 

Green are the hills and meadows basking in the sun ; 
Fair are the clouds of evening when the noon is done ; 
And shining are the pebbles where the waters run ! 

Tripping o'er the mountains the zephyrs come and go, 
Where'er the laurel climbeth and the roses blow, 
Musically the fountains ripple as they flow. 



Darting, darting, darting fleet. 
Trilling, trilling, trilling sweet, 
The wings and songs of birds. 

Flitting, flitting, flitting past. 

Little shadows thick and fast. 

The passing wings of birds. 

Cooing, cooing, cooing soft. 
In the leaves that grcon , aloft. 
The tender loves of birds ! 

Ever, ever, evermore 
Golden music, woodland lore, 
We learn from little birds. 



THE DYING YEAR. 

Only a little while, 

Heart-beats but few ! 
Goeth the ancient one, 

Cometh the new ! 

Wrongs that are done and past. 

Why need we scan? 
Let what is bad or wrong 

Die with the man ! 

All that is right and true 

Snatch trom the dust ! 
If we would judges be, 

We must be just ! 

Could he live o'er again 

Days that are fled, 
Nothing would mar the fame 

Of the poor dead ! 

4 (33) 



34 THE DYING YEAR. 

Who can look back, across 
All the wide year, 

Feeling no penitence. 
Dropping no tear ? 

Hearts that are human hold 
Something of good j 

Hearts would far better seem 
If understood. 

Let the year slumber, then, 
Mar not his fame : 

Brighten his better deeds, 
Cover his shame ! 



writtp:n after reading a sad 

STORY. 

Thy course was as a starry ray 
Through clouds of darkest hue ; 

And where the darkness darkest is, 
The light still shineth through. 

Thy life was as the simple words 

Of some sweet poet's song, 
Set to a tune of revelry 

And sung 'mid shame and wrong! 

Or like unto the tender lay 

Of a wild lonely bird, 
Near to a mountain-torrent sung 

And through its tumult heard. 

The cup that to thy lips was pressed. 
Though jeweled to the brink. 

Held poison none save thou mightst see, 
And thou alone mightst drink ! 

(35) 



36 WRITTEN AFTER READING A SAD STORY. 

Yet, ah ! unquivering were the lips 

Against the glittering bowl ! 
Slow ebbed the poison through thy heart, 

And deep into thy soul ! 



SUGGESTED BY A PICTURED 

^'SCENE ON THE RHINE." 

As I stood before the picture, came my muse with voice 

divine, 
Saying, ''Come with me and wander on the borders 

of the Rhine ! 

''AH thy cherished dreams and fancies into song- 
wreaths thou canst twine, 

As with hand in hand we linger on the borders of the 
Rhine ! 

"And the ancient German legends shall for evermore 

be thine, 
As with hand in hand we wander on the borders of the 

Rhine ! 

" We will listen to sweet music from the heart of some 

old shrine. 
As with hand in hand we linger on the borders of the 

Rhine ! 

4* ( 37 ) 



38 A PICTURED ''SCENE ON THE RHINEr 

*^ We will watch the blush of evening in the western 

sky decline, 
As with hand in hand we wander on the borders of the 

Rhine ! 

''With the good-night songs of peasants then thy voice 

will rise, and mine, 
As with hand in hand we linger on the borders of the 

Rhine ! 

''Ah ! the scattered gems above us will with doubled 

lustre shine, 
As with hand in hand we wander on the borders of the 

Rhine ! 

"And between the Past and Future there will be no 

harsher line 
Than the castle-crowned borders of the winding river 

Rhine!" 



MY ANGEL. 

I SIT in a dream, and the hours move by, 
While I gaze on the pink and golden sky, 
And see in my^ dream, through the flashing gates, 
A guardian angel, who silently waits 
And beckons me there. 

His wings and his robes are of silver sheen. 
His forehead is bright, his lips are serene. 
And his curls are ringed by a starry crown, 
That showers a glittering glory down 
Through the evening air. 

And the strain I hear is a spirit-song. 
And it flows like a golden stream along ; 
It comes through the space in the gate of stars. 
Where the angel waits by the jeweled bars. 
So far and so fair ! 

Yet I may not sing the songs that I hear. 
The angel-music so strange and so clear ; 
But still it flows, as a glorious stream, 
Through the flashing gates of my life-long dream. 
Like an answered prayer ! 

(39) 



TO A PANSY. 

Thou dear little Pansy I raise up thy bright head, 

The spring has returned, and the winter is (.lead. 

The frost cannot harm thee, dear one, do not fear ! 

It is the gay beauty, fair Spring, that is here ! 

Her smile is so golden, her songs woo and ple:\se. 

Lift thy head, my sweet flower, my gentle He;irt's-ease ! 

The air shall not roughen thy soft velvet cheek. 

Sweetheart of the wildwood, so peerlessly meek ! 

On hill nor in valley no flower is there 

In delicate richness with thee can compare ! 

An emblem of love unforgetting thou art ! 

To our hearts a remembrance of Nature's i^rcat heart ! 



(40) 



A NEW-YEAR RHYME. 

FOR AN OI.D-YEAR FRIEND. 

Though the clouds should darkly threaten, 
And a cloud be o'er my heart, 

I will hope the stars are shining 
O'er thy path, where'er thou art ! 

May thy heart's unspoken longing, 
Like to some deep, thrilling chord, 

Rise up through the golden gateway 
To the hearing of our Lord ! 

May the winds blow^ not too roughly, 

Wheresoever thou mayst be ! 
Be the waters blue and peaceful, 

If thou art upon the sea. 

May the waves, like horns of silver. 

Cast their treasures at thy feet, 
And with grand and solemn voices 



Sing thee music rare and sweet. 



(41 



42 



A .V£Jr-y£AM KHYME. 

And boar messages most tender 
To thee trom remembered lands. 

And give answer to thy yearnings, 
If thou art on foreign strands. 

If the world prove eold. and barren 

As a desert, unto thee. 
Be the pahn-like, restful shadow 

The tair truth that lies in me ! 



* 

Wv. stand :isi(K\ and hear with downcast eyes 
The judi;cs (Kionun^;" her. Surelv the skies 
Have let their spirits down, to walk on earth 
Amid the sullietl ehiy oi' lesser worth 1 

A thrill oi^ Miss! a sigh, the blessed while 
We stand near shining souls, so free oi' guile! 
We lit't our ga/.e: behold ! who say these things 
Arc only men — not gods with spotless wings! 

Let her name rest, O men who lash it so ! 
Unless your names and hearts are white as snow. 
Your feeble wisdom stavs this side the gra\e, 
And One alone has i)i)wer to blast or save! 

Ah. did you cry, Take heed! return! beware 

The snake hid in the roses false aiul lair! 

Mayhap your looks were bland, vour wortls were 

sweet ; 
INlavhap a serpent coils close to your teet ! 

(43) 



^4 LET HER XAME REST, 

Need ihov who do the sin, or they who aid 
When thov might crush the sin, be most afraid 
Of that great Judge who sits our deotls to scan. 
Noting the right and wrong of little man? 

Dwells there on earth a heart so dark of hue 
That God might not make pure, and perfect too ? 
Perhaps her misled soul held t reinsures rare. 
And geu\s you knew not ot" wore glittering there. 

Some deed in her s;id life may win reward: 
Good work fron\ her poor hands for our dear LorI ! 
Remember. He who bade the tempest cease. 
Said to the sinful woman, "Go in peace !*' 



r li K K A' IC N 1 N C S I' A R, W R E C KK J) 
OCrOlJKK. 2, 1866. 

O'ek (he blue (-arcssini;- waters 

^Yc\\{ a vessel on its way : 
Many tearful words were spoken 

On that soirow-gi\ ing day. 

Hearts were (here lull hii^h with hoping 

l'\)r (he gree(ings }e( to be; 
Eyes were looking brightly forward 

For the i)ort beyond the sea. 

Soon the darkness gathered o'er them, 
Hut, save Hea\en, none (he might 

Had to help (hem in the struggle! 
God, 'vvho saw it, knows the right. 

Through the blackness sank the vessel, 

And that great fraternity — 
Brother, sister, mother tender — 

Floated to Eternity ! 

5 (45) 



From a mimic life thov glidovl — 

l.ito of woe and revelry — 
I'nto scenes frvnn mortal curtaineil. 

Through a dread uncertainty ! 

Acted are their jxvrts km ever ; 

Hearts are still where music sung ; 
l\\\i" are ear's that wildly listenevi 

To brave plaudits loudly rung. 

Ocean w.ives. n\ost sweetly singing. 
Rolling o'er their dreamless heads; 

Shining s;mds, and jvarls, and coral, 
Twincxl in sea-wetxl, art their Ixxls. 



By lite' s sea son\c hearts arc waiting. 

AVatehiug tor a drifting sixvr. 
That their hojvs may only cling to 

Till the sett in li ot^ their stiir. 



T.TTl A N'S T.cnMs. 

Vwv [\y.u\\ was dashini;- fiorcx^ against 
'V\\c rock wluMV lalian stood. 

The Nviiul Mov bark hcv \c\\o\v hair 
Inninil by an a/uiv snooil. 

Wcv foot woro baiv. and whito as pearls, 
Tpon the lono. bleak stvanil. 

And whito the tlnttoiini; tkii; sho hcUl 
Within her slondor lianil. 

And swil'tly o'er the oeean swept 

A vessel gran^l and strong;-. 
And tVom its deiks arose the sound 

(.)!' happiness, in song: 



''llvin\e! hon\e ! hon\e ! 

Vvoxw a land tar over the sea. 
Though ilouds be dark, on speeds our bark 

To our home, 'the band ol" the l-'ree.' 



48 LILIAN'S LOVE. 

" Home ! home ! home ! 

As birds from tlie tempest flee, 
Across the main we come again 

To our home, the 'Land of the free.' " 



Then sang the maiden's heart a song, — 
Of all sweet things the best ! 

Her face amid its yellow hair 
Was as the glowing west, — 



The white and pink, the sunlight gold 
That shines as down it dips ! 

And to the sea this song went out 
From Lilian's heart and lips: 

' ' To me ! to me ! to me ! 

My love o'er the broad sea darts 
His love to my love ! his life to my life ! 

Sing joy, from a thousand hearts ! 

"To thee ! to thee ! to thee ! 

I\Iy love sends its welcome out : 
Far over the sea, my soul to thy soul 

Outspeedeth the sailors' shout!" 



LILIAN'S LOVE. 

The flashing sun went down behind 

The peaked hills of foam, 
Into the sea beyond the hills 

Encircling Lilian's home. 

Fair Peace spread out its silver wings 

Of pure and perfect rest, 
O'er Lilian's life, o'er Lilian's love,— 

And Lilian's heart was blest ! 



49 



S'^ 



A G X E S. 

Thev who know her story best 
Do believe that she is blest. 

In the land 
AVhere forever reigns the King, 
Where the angel-voices sing 

In one band ! 

Ah ! so pure the crimson flood 
Of the youthful martyr's blood, 

For her God, 
That we well might look to greet 
Flowers bright, and rare, and sweet, 

On the sod, 

Writing tender stories there 
Of a spirit, young and fiiir 

As a dove, 
That has fluttered past the skies, 
Through the gates of Paradise, 

To its love ! 
(50) 



.1(7 XFS. 

Yet a better pledge is ours 
Than the fragrant one of flowers 

Springing wild, 
That within her blissful home 
Dwells the martyred Maid of Rome, 

Sainted child ! 



51 



MAY BLOSSOMS. 

The winter, with its sighings deep and long, 
Has borne away the snow-drifts and the sleet, 
And we have now the May so fresh and green, 
And drifts of blossoms sweet. 

And drifts of song come from the high, bright trees, 
And float upon the gentle morning air. 
And call us forth to wander through the groves. 
And bid us linger there. 

And drifts of sunlight flooding all our lives, 
Each ray of gold like to a gleaming cord. 
Or like a gem-paved way to lead our thoughts 
Up to our blessed Lord ! 



(52) 



ONE WHO PASSED AWAY. 

Her eyes were of heaven-like azure, 

Her form fair and round, 
Her voice like a brook of the woodland 

In murmuring sound. 

Delightful the musical motion, 

That seemed as by chance. 
As waves o'er the blue summer ocean 

Unconsciously dance. 

Her pathway led through a bright garden 

With beauty outspread ; 
The child gathered half-opened flowers, 

Then onward she sped. 

Her robes are as snow, or as starlight ; 

Her harp strung with gold ; 
Her song is of God and His glory ; 

Her story is told ! 

(53) 



VESPERTINE. 

Bosomed deep in cloudy fleece, 
Isles of white and purple rest, 

Isles of beauty ! Isles of peace ! 
Calmly pictured in the west. 

Glancing rays of amber pale, 
Quivering across the sky, 

Gently part a misty veil, 
For a watchful starry eye. 

Sweeping through the silent air. 
Vesper, singing, silver-shod. 

Bearing up a wreath of prayer. 
Lays it at the feet of God. 



(54) 



THE TRUTH AND YOU. 

Like tiny mountains heaped with snow, the pearly 

clouds across the sky, 
Yet, though the winds of winter blow, the flowers of 

memory never die ! 
Above us is the perfect blue ; and, though the winds of 

winter blow, 
Your heart is ever warm and true, though many only 

see the snow. 

The cold white snow ! 

Outside the window Winter moans and sighs across the 

withered green ; 
But safe beyond its harshest tones the Spring holds 

flowers yet unseen ; 
And though the Present has its gloom, and all your 

Past be dark as night. 
As blossoms springing round a tomb, the Future rises 

sweet and bright, 

Full sweet and bright ! 

(55) 



56 THE TRUTH AND YOU. 

I am your friend, and you are mine: though Fortune's 

winds blow good or ill, 
My friendship never will decline, though you be false 

or faithful still ! 
Yet all unshaken is my trust in one so true to all that's 

true ! 
Time may not change or ever rust the earnest faith I 

have in you. 

The truth and you ! 



IN ME MORI AM. 

ClIART.KS McCORMlCK, INI.D., 

Georgetown, D. C 

Gone from the friendships ho iherished, 

So tender and dear ! 
Gone from the loves that so swoetlv 

Encircled him here ! 

Gone from a land full of sorrow, 
Where sorrows increase ! 

Gone to a laud o[ pure beauty 
And exquisite peace ! 

True to the hearts that he lived for, 
His faith, and his God! 

Noble the man we laid under 

The trreen summer sod ! 



O' 



Sad are the tears that we weep o'er 
The friend we have lost; 

Bright is the crown that he weareth, 
Full worthv the cost. 

6 (57) 



SNOW-DRIFTS. 

The snow is on the mountain, 

And the ice is on the rill, 

And the forest-trees are leafless in the blast, 

And the music of the fountain 

And the songs of birds are still, 

Lying far beneath the snow-drifts of the Past ! 

The snow of time is lying 
In drifts around the door. 
They were gathered by the storm-winds in their strife, 
And a mournful voice is sighing 
To my heart for evermore 
From beneath the gathered snow-drifts of my life I 

On earth there's no returning 
When the rose has lost its red, 
And the summer lost its music and its sheen ; 
Then take to God thy yearning 

Through the chambers of the dead — 
The mounds beneath the snow-drifts all are green. 
(58) 



APRIL RAIN-DROPS. 

A LONE little gem, like a tear-drop, 

Stole over the pane, 
In Spring, as we sat at the window. 

Not heeding the rain. 

Turn back for a space, and remember 

A time gone away : 
You said : ''I have something to tell yoii — ' 

Ah ! what was it, pray ? 

Clear drop followed drop with its patter. 

And sang o'er again 
The song it has sung through all ages — 

The soft April rain ! 

And have you in truth, then, forgotten? 

Oh, turn, dear, and think : 
The time was July, in the morning — 

My bonnet was pink. 

(59) 



6o APRIL RAIN-DROPS. 

Sad April, thy heart must be burdened 

By some secret pain ! 
Or why would thy face be all dampened 

By tear-drops of rain ? 



You stood in the shade of the curtain — 

I trembled and sighed ; 
My cheek and my brow to my tresses 

With blushes were dyed. 

Ah, April ! did March, the rude scoffer, 

Awaken this pain. 
With heartless and cruel deriding 

Start tear-drops of rain? 

Held down by a spell as of iron, 

Your captive I sat ; 
You trembled and sighed with my sighing. 

And looked at your hat. 

The May-month thy sister is coming ; 

Oh, still thy refrain ! 
And greet her with smiles and caresses. 

Not tear-drops of rain. 



APRIL RA IX- DROPS. 6 1 

'Tis strange that you cannot remember 

The month and the day, 
When you saitl you had something to tell, and — 

Forgot what to say ! 



TOO LATE. 

'-Too late! too late!" it is, 

Or else too soon ! 
The golden morning hurries on. 

And leaves the noon. 

Too late ! too late ^ve wake ! 

Too soon it tlies, 
The life we lu->ld so close, and love. 

And falsely prize ! 

Too late ! too late for us, 

The time is by 1 
A little longing for the Past, 

A single sigh. 

Too late ! too late ! alas ! 

Departing breath — 
Ah, Heart, too late ! too late for life ! 

Too soon for death ! 
(62) 



STARWARD. 

I FEEL to-night an angel close beside me, 
I'm sitting in the shadow of his wings, 
The deeps of my deep heart within me stirred 
By whisperings ! 

He stands in heaven before the Throne of God, 

Clad in the dazzling beauty of his grace ! 
I would that I might turn some day and see 
His shining face, 

And on my shoulder feel the lingering touch 

Of his unsullied, fair, angelic hands ! 
Oh, I would rise and follow through the waste 
Of earthly lands ! 

His voice, attuned in praises to our Lord, 

Like sounds of vesper-bells upon the wind, 
Would lead, and I would follow past the stars, 
Far, tar behind ! 

(63) 



A NOTE OF REMEMBRANCE. 

I REMEMBER oiic day of autiimn, 

An autumn not very iar back, 
You'd been for a time in the country. 

And looked rather shadowy, Jack. 

You said you'd been longing to see me, — 
Or words that, were something the same,- 

And ask'd if I knew you were coming, 
And if I was glad that you came. 

'Twere useless recording the answers, 
They suited the case at the time. 

And now if I cared to recall them 
Might aid me in rhyming this rhyme. 

You called me a saint for my goodness. 

An angel in form and in face ; 
Tis nonsense for you to deny it, 

I've noted the time and the place ! 
(64) 



A NOTE OF REMEMBRANCE. 65 

You uttered words worthy of Milton, 
Or Dante, or Shakespeare, or Moore — 

A something that some one has written — 
I've certainly heard it before! 

'Twas this: ''that you thought of me always. 
And wished that I might understand, 

No woman was ever so perfect 
In all of this christianized land!" 

And when my turn came for replying, 
I gave yon some compliments too ; 

You called me ''a dear little humbug:" 
I would not have said that to you ! 

But distance will lessen resentment, 

And I have forgiven you. Jack, 
And promise, dear, not to forget you. 

In case you make haste to come back. 



AU REVOIR. 

This year is dying now. I may not know 
The fairer, coming year, so sure and slow ! 
I may be lying far beneath the snow 
Of the New Year. 

A prayer from thy strong, earnest heart I crave ! 
Mayhap the flowers o'er the sod will wave. 
Where I lie dreaming, deep within the grave 
Of the New Year. 

Ah ! the gold light of sweet spring-tide may shine 
And summer bloom above thy grave, as mine, 
And leaves drop there in autumn's sad decline, 
In the New Year ! 

This is as naught ! ah, not for this I write — 
The moon is full, and fair and cold to-night. 
Sandaled in silence, the lone hours take flight 
To the New Year. 
(66) 



AU RE VOIR. 67 

If those harsh words of mine did hurt thy heart, 
Or tear the rosy coronal apart, 
That Hope had bound, forgive me ! much thou art 
In the old year ! 

What more, if we bewail what we confess? 
Is sorrow little worth? Repentance less? 
Which would be easier, — to curse, or bless. 
The coming year ? 

My much-mistaken friend, I do regret 
That in the sunny Southern wilds we met ; 
Then let us each forgive, and each forget 
The sad old year ! 



SALVE REGINA. 

Mother of a God most just and merciful ! 
We thy praises sing: 
Handmaid to the King ! 
Salve Regina! 

Mother of our Lord, most pure and beautiful ! 
Truth thy name adorns ! 
Truth thy scorner scorns ! 
Salve Regina ! 

Mother of The Man most meek, most wonderful ! 
Mary — Heaven's Queen! 
Powerful ! Serene ! 

Salve Regina! 

Fair patron of God's Church and its Protectress ! 
Tender Heart and Wise ! 
Lady of the Skies ! 

Salve Regina! 
(68) 



JUSTICE. 

*' Justice! Who is he, grandmamma?" Karl said. 
I laid my withered hand upon his head, 

And answered thus: 
*' 'Tis one who rests not in the day nor night, 
Marking in gold, upon a tablet white. 

Good words for us, 

''And for our righteous deeds gives thrice again. 
As fruit of seed upon a cultured plain, 

A fair reward; 
As flowers that bloom beside some meadow rill 
Its gentle banks with gracious fragrance fill 

In sweet accord." 

Then answered Karl: "I do not understand. 
Does every man that dwells within the land 

In virtue live?" 
/'Not so," I answered: "though the truth may grieve. 
Some hands are open ever to receive. 

Yet nothing give ! 

7 (69) 



70 yUSTICE. 

"Some look, yet see not, for their eyes are blind, 
The rag-clad forms that shiver in the wind 

Before their door — 
And to their cry for help they give no heed, 
Nor to the voice that whispers, Clothe and feed 

God's cherished Poor!" 

"Then, grandma," asked the boy, "does Justice write, 
In letters of pure gold upon the white, 

Their deeds and name?" 
"Such records kept within a darkened space 
Are written on an ebon tablet's face 

In words of flame." 

"Are they who ask for bread, and stretch the hand 
For alms, the only poor within the land 

Who have sore need?" 
"Nay, others still, with craving hearts unheard, 
Go silent, longing for a cheering word — 

Ah, poor indeed ! 

"And those who climb the ways most hard and steep, 
Who weep when others see not that they weep. 

Toil on alone, — 
And, pausing near the summit of the hill, 
Sit down to perish, cold and pale and still, 

On some rough stone." 



yrsTfCE, 



71 



"Nay. \vluM\' hidos justice while \\\c\ siitVcr so? 
\\ ritos \\c upon his tabh^t. uhitt' ;is snow , 

'y\w t.ilo Nou'vo told?" 
''ITosits in llo;i\on, Karl, ;iiul onl\ \\\cvc 
Is bahuu'od o\\'r\' docd, or il.uk or t>iir. 

In Sink's of Liold." 



ri 1 r. RIMS o !• ru V. pas r. 

A swnr httlo lu.iiil sat iwidiui;. tVoiw .i xA^lunii' \\\ hcv 

haiuis. 
An old story o( a pili;iiu\ \vl\o h.ivl sti.iycd [o vUlicr 

Kuuls ; 



AnJ (ho t.ili^ M.is tv^Kl in lani;u.ii;c ot' .uuuhoi il.Uo and 

clinu\ 
And tho lottots woiv all cvWdon. aiul [\\c \nc{\ucs were 

snblinio. 



i^ut {\\c pili;rini*s hair was \\hiUM\(\l In tlu^ lonvh of 

manv \cai-s. 
Anil his i\cc was liooph thanm^UHl bv iho hittiM- tiilo 

ol" tiMi-s. 



liiowini; w i\n v oi tho prosont. as his lilotimo tloi^toil 

last. 
lio luri\i\l haok his anoiont lootsti^ps to tiio oountrv o\ 

I ho Past : 
(7*) 



r/iAiK/Ms (>/■' THE iwsr. 



73 



lis l)riL;h( silviM- L;a(iN Ntood ()|hmi. IcMdin;,; lo its |t;tl;uc- 

iKills. 
W here lone mortals who arc woaiy oli fiiul rest within 

its walls. 

A ( leai' loinUain thicw its wateis sparklim; through the 

l)ahu\- ail", 
And around its base j^rew (lowiTs that wimx^ ix>(!oKM\t 

and tail'. 



And he luMiil through strains ol" luusie tender words ol" 

lo\e an«I praise, 
\\'hi( h his heart with joy n-nnanheriMl as tlie songs of 

other days. 



A solt sound ol ripplinj; lauL;hti"r iVoin youn^^ li[)s, lull, 

round, atui sweet , 
And a ilistant sound (^{ daiu ing in a nairow yillage 

street. 



'I'luMi a niaidiai llilti'd hy him, with daik dn-amy eyes 

ol blue, 
lliM white kirlle looped \yUh roses, ;ii\d her hair of 

sunny hue. 



74 PILGRIMS OF THE PAST. 

Then the pilgrim, sighing, murmured, in a deep and 

trembling tone, 
''Ah, behold! I come, beloved! Turn and look on 

me, mine own !" 

Then throughout the Past ran murmurs like the voices 

of the sea : 
''Ah, my own, my peaceful-hearted ! hast thou, then, 

forgotten me?" 

And it followed her lamenting through the mellow 

eventide, 
And she heeded it, returning through the Past unto his 

side. 

And through all the shade and sunshine of the olden 

golden land, 
Still she walked beside the Pilgrim as he clasped her 

by the hand, 

Under gray old granite arches, and by broken marble 
fanes. 

Unto simple rustic churches, through the blossom- 
bordered lanes, 



PILGRIMS OF THE PAST. 



75 



Till they stood before a statue, with a mighty look and 
name : 

From the marble in bold letters read they there to- 
gether, Fame ! 

Then the Pilgrim and the maiden sought a green and 

mossy way, 
Where the birds were always singing, and it seemed 

forever May. 

And they sat near by a brooklet that trilled forth its 

baby-rhyme. 
As it rose to kiss the blossoms of the wild and fragrant 

thyme ; 

Where the morning sunbeams rested on the dew-drops 

of the lea, 
And forget-me-nots were blooming at the foot of each 

old tree; 

Where the stars wrote shining mottoes in the azure 

deeps above. 
Thus: ''Let mortals learn a lesson from the stars, of 

perfect love!" 



76 



/'//,(/ A' AiAv (V' /•///•; r.is/: 



'Thou the maiden ccascil her iwuliuL;, and [\\v hook 

slid iVoni luM" knees, 
Down among the whisiviini; grasses that were stirring 

in the bree/.e. 

As slie pondered, "Stars are tailhtul — only nuMials are 

untrue !" 
C\ime a step quite elose beside her, "Ah, I.eotstan, is 

it you? 

"1 have read an olden legend of a nian who went to 

look 
l'\>r a land all I'uU ot" beaiitv, like the jMctures in the 

book. 

"And the story says he found it, and a maid all purelv 

elad. 
And the maiilen loved the Pilgrim, and the Pilgrim's 

heart was ulad. 



"And he held her hand full llrmlv, as von now are 

holding mine, 
In the land wheie birds are singing, and the rOse and 

laurel twine. 



r//(;Aw.)/s or iiii-: /\is'/\ 



77 



"Ah, then, Ic( ns go, Leofstan, to that land so true 

and fair ! 
You will \o\c nic there forever, I will love you always 

there!" 



AX FVF. XIXG SKF.TCTT. 

Pearly clouds above me, rimmed with bands of gold ! 
In my heart a story that is yet untold. 

At my toot the murmur of a thankless world ; 
In niv mind stray tancios never yet nnt'urlod. 

And the distant hill-top purple-robed soon\s : 
In mv lap a volume of a poet's dreams. 

Windows tlash and glimmer in the evei\ing sun. 
Like a thousand sabres ere the fight is won I 

Shadows veil the tonijilos seattorod lioro and ihoro, 
Pointing straight to heaven with their steeples fair — 

Pointing up to heaven, o'er the ola\ and dust. 
Like to white-clad spirits that are pure and just. 

Trees with fornis dismantled, rugged, dark, and stern. 
As some truths in sorrow we are forced to learn. — 
(7S) 



.iX K VEXING SICElVlf, 



'<) 



As somo lives whose tViondships and avIiosc loves are 

gone. 
Standing: all deserted, while the world moves on ! 



'{r« 



Soon the night will eover with its niightv pall, 
IVaee. and io\ , and sorrow, — li\ ini;. dead, and all ! 



V A U L. 
I. 

PAUL. 

One bright day I wove a romance, and the hero's name 

was Paul ; 
Now the romance has gone from me. but this much 1 

can recall : 
That dear Paul would linger near me — near the heroine. 

I mean — 
And his words were alwa\-s gentle, and his look was 

most serene. 
And his eyes were like the midnight that con\es to 

Southern skies. 
And they asked me tender questions., and awaited my 

replies, 
And to make them all the surer, he would take her 

restless hand, 
And would hold it. like some pebble he had found 

upon the strand ; 
(So) 



PAUL, Si 

• 

For his hanJ than hers was larger, and the sun had 

turned it brown, 
And he called her hand a rosedeaf, or a waif ot' eider- 
down. 
And the evening would go by them, and the twilight 

tall around, 
And the stars come out above them, as the daisies on 

the ground. 
And their jxilace was ot" marble, tair as cherry-blossoms' 

blow. 
And they dwelt beyond the winter, and beyond the 

ice and snow. 
And the lake ot' l-elix glistened like a lily-bordered 

gh\ss, 
And the gayest flowers nodded 'mid the shining blades 

of gniss. 
And when the davs were longer than the romance I 

tell o'er. 
Then she drit'ted through the twilight from the palace 

on the shore. 
In a graceful little shallop they would drift their dreamy 

way, 
And beneath the silvery starlight through the reeds and 

rushes stray, 
As the shallop of my memory, through the days that 

round me tall, 
Pushes back to my Ideal whom I've named, ^forever, Paul. 

S 



82 PAUL. 



II. 



FOR PAUL. 

The broad, sunny day has gone from us, 

In quiet 'tis furled. 
And flowers and leaves it has scattered 

All over the world. 
We wreathe and we weave in the twilight 

The dreams of the day, 
And clothe them in violet and silver, 

Or purple and gray. 
One star quivers silently o'er us — 

O'er land and o'er sea. 
My heart turns to God through the gloaming, 

And He bends to me ; 
And words flutter forth through the darkness, 

As forest-leaves fall : 
In anguish, temptation, or danger, 

Protect my friend Paul ! 
Protect him and save him, O Father ! 

And guide him to Thee ; 
Bestow many favors upon him, — 

Though fewer to me. 
Behold, in the path half untrodden, 

A cold, silent grave ! 



PAUL. S 

Thou, One of the One All Eternal, 

Hast power to save 1 
The safety I crave is the answer 

From God to my call : 
Through anguish, temptation, and danger, 

Protect mv friend Paul ! 



III. 



TO PAUL. 

The twilight and evening were blending, 

And into the room 
Stole shadows, like angels of darkness, 

Or spirits of doom. 
I felt that mysterious power 

;Man may not control, 
That sweeps through the unbroken silence 

And speaks to the soul, 
Unveiling most beautiful pictures 

Of Hope or Regret. 
The one with the joy-beaming features 

We may not forget : 
Her lips have but tasted of pleasure 

From Life's golden cup; 
She stands in the bright yellow sunlight, 
The sun is just up. 



o 



84 PAUL. 

The other, Regret, pale with sadness 

From memory cast, 
Stands gazing, not forward, but backward, 

Deep into the Past; 
The eyes looking westward are weary, 

Though not with tears wet. 
The clouds that are gathered are sombre. 

The sun is long set. 
A voice, as a voice that the distance 

Is holding in thrall, 
Said, ''Write!" and I wrote — take the missive 

And read it. Friend Paul ! 
Some stars on the banner of heaven — 

The banner of blue — 
With faithful and unchanging lustre 

Remind me of you. 
Some stars for radiance around them 

We scarcely may see; 
Yet steadfast and true to their mission, 

And they are like me. 
I feel though the light be but feeble, 

Or clouds darken all, 
I never may rightfully question 

The friendship of Paul. 
We meet in our life men and women 

Who greet us and smile. 



rAUL. 85 

• 

Whose memory of us is rounded 

By that little while ; 
And hearts that are faithless to all things 

They know and believe; 
Oft caught in the net of the faithless, 

They fain would deceive, 
A few that are true to one teaching 

Within a whole creed, 
As offshoots of some wayward seedling 

Half flower, half weed. 
A serpent creeps under the roses, 

And coils at our feet; 
We see not the snake for the blossoms 

So fair and so sweet ! 
Yet take but one step all unheeding 

The base, shining thing, 
And through the sweet flowers that wooed us 

The serpent will sting. 
However I once may have trusted, 

My trust I recall ! 
However I once may have doubted, 

I doubted not Paul ! 



8* 



86 PAUL. 



IV. 



A l.l'.rrKR FROM VAUL. 

A l,;it>d wlu-ii- ihc sunshine and tlowcvs 

Onr sonscs cntraiu'c : 
Hit;!) nvouniains, broad rivers, and vineyards, 

(.^■ay, beantifnl France! 

I TTIAXK you, dear l''riond. for your letter, 

A svinln^l o[ vmi — 
Untarnished, unbroken renienibranee. 

Full eariu^st ami true ! 
Alarn\ t'or n\v danger is needless. 

Though preeious no loss 
To one who asks dvnX in TTis greatness 

\'our lite-wav to Mess. 
\o\\\ wishes and hopes mav avail nun h 

To one little worth 
The notice ot'(unl. whose sweet n\erey 

Spreads over the earth. 
Though knowing above mortal knowledge, 

Mv merit is small. 
He guideth me sate through the path, where 

Temptaticms u\ost tall. 
'Twere shmt to the end of our journey, 

Hut sin makes it Ioult. 



PAUL, 87 

If we sing: well the song of God's giving, 

He'll shorten the song. 
My life of few years grows a burden ; 

Each thought is a (\ire — 
Ah ! I long to sit down by the river 

So peaceful and fair ! 
Sweet messengers tender and gentle — 

Ay, gentle as doves — 
Are hovering round me forever 

From fLir-away loves. 
From soul unto soul they have murmured, 

These life-loves of mine — 
**From now unto death and beyond it 

Our hearts are all thine!" 
Outstretched heaves the vast salty ocean, 

An emblem of years, 
Where ships of fond hope sink dismantled 

'Mid wild waves of tears. 
An ocean as strong as their truth is, — 

Truth deep as the sea, — 
With depth and with might rolls unceasing 

Betwixt them and me f 
Shaped but by a will that's Eternal 

The first as the last : 
He holdeth it all in His keeping, 
The Future, the Past ! 



88 PAUL. 



V. 



THE ANSWER. 

Your letter came to me this morning — 

It started my tears ! 
Its words led me back through the shadows 

To happier years, 
When for the bright sunshine around us, 

We never could trace 
The path we have heard of full often 

That leads to the place 
Where hearts break, or part with a struggle, 

And finish the race 
Alone, and with nothing to gaze on 

Save Fate's stony face. 
Although in the garden behind us 

A fairy bird sings. 
And flashes through unfading bowers 

Its beautiful wings, — 
Let us hope for the future ! Regret less — 

Or mourn not at all, — 
For God has bestowed many blessings 

On both of us, Paul ! 
He gains not so much of the victory 

Who, suffering, mourns — 



PAUL. 89 

• 

The heart and the head of our Saviour 

Were wounded with thorns ! 
Then, when we would murmur o'er sorrow 

That marks earthly loss, 
We'll think of the Prince of High Heaven, 

Who died on a cross. 
The blue sky above us is stormless, 

Our barks float at ease ; 
Although they float, parted forever, 

On different seas ! 
My spirit wafts words to your hearing, — 

My spirit to yours, — 
In murmurs like ocean-shell music 

Of f:ir-away shores. 
Their purport is this : God is heeding. 

He heareth each call ! 
Let us take His wide mercy for answer 

To me and to Paul ! 



LOVE'S LESSON. 



Dedicated to Maggie MitcheU. 



To the leaf-embowered Summer, with its cherished 

birds and songs, 
All this rustic-fashioned story of a rustic maid belongs. 

When the days are full of sunlight, then the light so 

like to gold, 
Adds a deeper glow and sweetness to the story that is 

told. 

Gentle Lorle weaving flowers into garlands rare and 

gay, 

Was as tender as the roses, and as beautiful as they ; 

And whene'er she stooped to cull them, the caressing 

summer air. 
Like a silent gypsy lover, kissed her forehead and her 

hair. 
(90) 



LOVE'S LESSON. 



91 



Ah, the flowers surely knew it, in that golden day of 

June, 
And the song-birds seemed to know it, for they added 

to their tune 

A rich, dulcet note of music, free of sorrow, free of 

care, 
As it mingled with the sunshine and the fragrance 

floating there. 

Then a lay trilled through the valley ; it was careless, 

high, and strong. 
As it swept before the singer of the mellow, mighty 

song ! 

An old song, whose words were gathered in a famous 

German town : 
As he wandered o'er the mountains he had heard them 

flowing down 

On the breeze that came behind him : there he learned 

the words he sang. 
That through all the moss-lined valley with their magic 

power rang : 



92 



LOVE'S LESSON. 



"As the soft remembered music of the vespers' silver 

bell, 
Rings a voice through town and hamlet, through the 

woodland, through the dell; 

"And its tone is true and tender, and it flows unceas- 
ing on. 

Through the present to the future, from the days for- 
ever gone ! 

"Like swift messages of spirits that are thrilling and 

sublime, 
One great voice with many echoes stirs the hearts of 

every clime ! 

*'And the voice is Love eternal — and the echoes blend 

and rhyme 
As they murmur dreamy music through the ancient halls 

of Time!" 



Then arose the voice of Lorle, past the birds and past 

the trees, 
And an answer to the stranger floated softly on the 

breeze : 



LOVE'S LESSON. 



93 



'' Hid within green, silent valleys, undiscovered stream- 
lets run ; 

By their banks are growing flowers that the sun looks 
not upon. 

''There are dells, and nooks, and grottoes, where man's 

voice is never heard ! 
In the sea-deeps there are treasures that are lying all 

unstirred ! 

"Ah, behold a simple maiden, yet untaught of love or 

art ! 
Wake, O straTiiger, wake the echo that is slumbering 

in her heart ! " 



A KISS FOR ELLIE. 

A KISS for thee, Ellie ! my heart-love, my own ! 
Sweet rose in life's garden, but only half blown !- 
A kiss for thee, Ellie ! my heart-love, my own ! 

A kiss for thee, Ellie ! unmet and unseen ! 
Though rivers and prairies our paths lie between. 
A kiss for thee, P-^llie ! unmet and unseen ! 

To thee in the West-land, from me in the South, 
A kiss for thine eyes, and a kiss for thy mouth ! 
To thee in the West-land, from me in the South. 



(94) 



TO THE YOUNG MOON. 

FOR MARY AND DAISY. 

Young, l^eautiful, and shining, and serene! 
Glide on, glide on, thou silver-robed Queen, 
And let thy lovely face by men be seen ! 

Fair as the magic of the days of old ; 
Or some sweet fairy legend half untold. 
Thy argent beauties to our sight unrolled ! 

Move on, move on, O moon so bright to view. 
Across the star-laid floor of azure hue — 
Thou Queen so peerless, and so calm and true ! 

Look from thy palace, arching, grand, and high ! 
Before thy glance tlie darkest shadows fly — 
Queen of the Night and Empress of the sky ! 

(95) 



AN UNFINISHED STORY. 

Let me tell thee, for the story 

From my memory unfolds, 
Like a blossom that is bursting, 

Bursting with the sweets it holds. 

It is this, and nothing greater — 
The fair path in which we met 

Windeth still through greenest mosses, 
Is by roses shaded yet. 

Let me tell thee, dear one; listen! 

Though the moss is 'neath the snow, 
And in memory's garden only 

Pink and clustering roses grow. 

Days and hours are not noted 
More than insects on the wing. 

When beside me thou dost linger. 
Making all my days as Spring. 

(96) 



AN UNFINISHED STORY. 97 

Spring with grasses green and wavy, 
Spring with flowers on her brow, 

Looking with her gladsome glances 
As thou lookest, dear one, now. 



After Spring the Summer cometh, 
And amid the leafy trees, 

Songs of birds are ever filling 
The soft air with melodies. 



Soft as is thy coming, dear one. 
When thou glidest to my side. 

As a bird through ether sailing 
To its nest at eventide. 

We forget to greet the Summer, 
We are tardy with our praise. 

Till we lose her 'mid the crimson 
And the gold of autumn days. 

Ah, thou brilliant, beauteous Autumn, 
With thy russet, rustling leaves. 

With thy dusky, darting swallows. 
Flitting through the shadowy eaves ! 
9* 



98 



AN UNFINISHED STORY. 

Memories of the days that are not, 

Autumns of a time apart, 
Rustle down and wake the echoes 

In the quiet of my heart. 

As the Autumn-tide departeth, 
Chilly Winter cometh near; 

But we will not speak of Winter, — 
Darling, linger always here ! 

I will sing of pinkest roses, 
Mosses that are ever green, 

Thou wilt be my Spring, my Blossom, 
Thou wilt be my Bird ! my Queen ! 



NEAR A COUNTRY GRAVEYARD. 

The sunlight of a fading summer day 

Has glided from the fields of new-mown hay, 

And o'er the rounded hill-tops far away. 

And in the place where human hearts are still, 

Just in the longest shadow of the hill, 

A lonely bird is singing, — whip-poor-will ! 

It sings above the graves of centuries flown. 
Amid the grass-grown hillocks one pale stone 
Stands like a white-clad sentinel — alone. 

It marks a soldier's grave, and names his name, 
To which it adds no praise, yet naught of blame — 
He died for love of country, — not for fame. 

The dews fall soft where eyes have ceased to weep ; 
The peace is dreamless, and its shadow deep. 
Old Robin Ritchie here lies wrapt in sleep 



(99) 



loo NEAR A COUNTRY GRAVEYARD. 

The leaves are by the evening breezes twirled, 
All else is in the clasp of silence furled, 
One star is looking downward on the world. 



AFTER THE BATTLE. 

The light has faded in the west, 

The bloody day is done ! 
And o'er the sky's broad, azure breast 

The stars steal, one by one. 

The moon, clad in her silver mail. 
Walks where the stars are spread, 

And silently, and sad, and pale, 
Keeps sentry o'er the dead. 

Wild ferns grew here, and roses white, 

But, ere the day had fled, 
The ferns were trampled in the fight 

That dyed the roses red ! 

(lOl) 



TO B^ifirV^^^'^H-^M^ 

I WOULD write a rhyme for thee, 
But I cannot make it be 
Half so fair as thou to me, 
Little Nell. 

I would sing of each brown tress 
That the favored winds caress ; 
I would all my love express, 
Little Nell. 

I would tell of those dark eyes 
Wearing looks of grave surprise, 
Where some future heart-dream lies. 
Little Nell. 

Could I paint a fairy scene. 
Thou shouldst be the tiny Queen, 
Ruling with thy words serene, 
Little Nell. 

( I02) 



yo E^h4 sy^AC>^\ 103 

Could I write a perfect rhyme, 
That would live through earthly time, 
I would make thy name sublime, 
Little Nell. 

I can only say, ''God bless 
All her days with tenderness ! 
Keep Thou ever sorrowless 
Little Nell!" 



A FRAGMENT. 

A LITTLE bark went out to sea, 

The sea was calm, the air was bland. 

And music swept melodiously 
Back to the land. 

But soon the storm rushed o'er the sea. 
The wind arose, the clouds grew dark. 

Yet music sighed unceasingly 
From out the bark. 

The bark went down beneath the sea, — 
But still forever sweeps along 

Unfaltering and melodiously, — 
The poet's song. 



(104) 



TO MY SISTER, :6-EBECCA BOYLE. 

Across the sky broad golden bars were lying, 
Across the fields the summer wind was sighing, 
As we toward the western hills were hieing. 

A yellow glow the forest was spread over, 

Our path lay through the rounqled blooms of clover, 

Kissed by the air — the dancing, fickle rover ! 

The stream ran round the hill and murmured lowly, 
Then sang its song between the stones more slowly. 
As if the woods held something sad or holy; 

And as it went through all the narrow passes. 
It laughed and frolicked with the waving grasses, 
As in a rustic dance the lads and lasses. 

As high and low it ran in tuneful measure. 
We listened in a dreamy mood of pleasure, 
While our two hearts enjoyed a lapse of leisure. 

lo ( 105 ) 



Io6 TO MY SISTER, REBECCA BOYLE. 

The day is gone, with change of time and weather, 
As floats a leaf, a flower, or a feather — 
The day is gone, and yet we are together. 

When Time, that maketh darkest hair grow hoary, 
And crowneth each poor life with gloom or glory, 
Shall part our steps, then read this simple story. 



TO A FRIEND. 

The West has gathered in its azure fold 
A blending of rich purple, pink, and gold, 
Like to a host of banners all unrolled ! 

Beyond the trees, and glancing brightly through, 
A band of silver lies between us two, 
A band of silver underlined by blue. 

[White are your crests as birds whose names you bear, 
White are the sails that flap the ambient air, 
Beloved River of a land most fair!] 

Turning awhile, the thoughtless world to view, 
I turn again, with outstretched arms, to you; 
Though time may change, the true will still be true ! 

Though I forget for one fleet moment's space 
The love of one whose friendship is a grace. 
The image in the iemple holds its place / 

( 107) 



io8 TO A FRIEND. 

Think this: that though the river grow more wide, 
And higher grow the waves, and swift the tide, 
In spirit I am walking at your side ! 

And though the shore be rough, not smooth or fair. 
And harsh the wind — not gentle breaths of air — 
Remember, still, that I am walking there ! 



POOR LITTLE LISBETH. 

Ah, to-morrow is Christmas ! 

Tiie light breezes blow ! 
The light breezes whistle 

As onward they go : 
Ah, to-morrow is Christmas ! 

And the rosy-faced urchin, 

With rosy pug-nose, 
Whistles light as the wind, 

And thinks, as he goes, 
Ah, to-morrow is Christmas ! 

Good Kriss Kingle is coming, 

With wonderful toys. 
Books, dolls, balls, and marbles, 

For girls and for boys : 
Ah, to-morrow is Christmas ! 

And the wind hurries onward 
And sings high — and low — 

lo* ( 109 ) 



no POOR LITTLE LIS BETH. 

And leaves far behind it 

The joy and the woe 
Of to-morrow, the Christmas. 

There is light on the pavement 
From window and door, 

And gay-hearted people 
Are thronging each store ; 

For to-morrow is Christmas ! 

Just outside of the windows, 
With brown, wistful eyes. 

Creeps poor little Lisbeth, 
Who murmurs and sighs, 

''Ah, to-morrow is Christmas!" 

And her red woolen stockings 
Are deep in the snow; 

She dries with her apron 
The tears as they flow, 

When she thinks upon Christmas 

Of its beautiful treasures. 
Its light and its cheer. 

Its keepsakes and tokens. 
There's nothing for her, 

Though to-morrow is Christmas ! 



POOR LITTLE LIS BETH. m 

Only God cares for Lisbeth, 

As from the blue dome 
He sees the lone orphan 

In tears creeping home 
O'er the snow spread for Christmas. 



SHADOWS. 

Little shadows on the wall — 
Greater shadows over all — 
Flickering shadows rise and fall. 

On our lives are shadows cast 
From the sad and solemn Past 
To the Future far and vast. 

Days that come, and days that go, 
Full of shadows dark as woe. 
Shadows high, and shadows low — 

Shadows on the path before, 
Shadows from the days of yore — 
Ghosts of times that are no more. 



(112) 



SPRING. 

The grass is green with freshness of the Spring, 
And all among the leafy branches sing 
The little birds of blue and yellow wing. 

The crocus-flowers nod their heads of gold, — 
The gracious morning air has made them bold, — 
And to a sunbeam's kiss their leaves unfold. 

If you will listen — thinking naught of wrong — 
You'll hear the green and slender grasses' song 
Of winter days that seem so dark and long. 

It soundeth thus : The dreary days went slow. 
While we were lying still beneath the snow. 
Awaiting for the words : Awake and grow ! 

And as we lay so cold, and sad, and dumb. 
Half dreaming of a summer-time to come. 
When we would hear the little wild bees hum, 

("3) 



114 



SPRING. 

We felt a thrill — a voice said : Wake ! Arise ! 
The snow is gone — afar the winter flies, 
And soon will flowers open their bright eyes. 

We are so glad ! The sunny days are here ! 

And hyacinths and violets appear ! 

And loudly rings the wood-bird's song, and clear. 

O, Spring ! we love thy gentle, wooing ways. 
Thy balmy breath, thy golden, beaming days; 
We live in joy ! — we tremble in thy gaze ! 



TO MRS. M. L. LOUGHBOROUGH 
ZANE, OF MARYLAND. 

Well, here I am again, dear friend, 

Your true friend still. 
Afar I see the college lamps 

Gleam on the hill. 

And lesser lights are shining near, 

And stars above 
Reveal a purer light than all — 

The light of love 

That, falling on the resting world. 

There gently lies. 
Like kisses from a mother's lips 

On baby eyes. 

Beyond the town the river runs, 
With curves and bends : 

'Tis as the silken thread of thought 
That onward wends — 

("5) 



Il6 TO MRS. M, L. LOUGHBOROUGH ZANE, 

Ah, take it ! as the ocean takes 

The silver tide, 
A river to the mighty sea, 

So deep and wide. 



The river gains, as on it flows. 
From strearns and rills, 

That bear the songs of forest lands, 
And grassy hills. 

And from some inland garden floats 

An unblown rose, 
That with the ripples or the waves 

Unceasing goes. 

And ferns sail out from shady dells. 
And moss-grown spots; 

And swiftly follow down the tide 
Forget-me-nots. 

Still flows the river on, and on, 
Through day and night ; 

And gleams or darkens as it flows 
In shade or light. 



rO MRS. M. L. LOUGHBOROUGH ZANE. 117 

And on its banks are giant trees 

And sombre rocks, 
Marked by the ravage storms have made, 

Or battle-shocks. 



Thus Time, no doubt, will leave its mark, 

My friend, on you; 
Yet, as I think by night, the stream 

Still wears its blue, — 

I think of you as in the days 

That seemed so fair. 
When, gazing forward into life. 

You saw no care. 

As one might deem of meadow-lands 

Afar-off seen. 
How velvet-like beneath our tread 

And emerald green. 

Not far across life's meadow-lands 

Your feet have sped. 
Yet clouds have cast their shadows o'er 

Your dear young head ! 
II 



Il8 TO MRS. M. L. LOUGHBOROUGH ZANE. 

While walking in the meadow-lands, 

But lift your eyes, 
Behold above the distant hills 

The great sun rise ! 

'Tis as the joy contentment knows. 

And love reveals; 
Like to the joy, and love, and peace 

Your heart now feels. 

The trees are green, the sky is blue, 

The sunbeams there 
Are as the gold that crowns with light 

Your bright brown hair. 

Ah, this is Spring ! with bud and bloom, 

With bird and bee ! 
It makes me think, sweet friend, of you — 

Remember me ! 



SEPTEMBER NOTES. 

Respectfully dedicated to W. W. Corcoran, Esq. 

Beyond the noise and dust of town we went, 
And in the greener shades we sought content, 

And found it there, 
Bound in an emerald frame and leafy mesh. 
That keeps it from the world all bright and fresh, 

Away from care. 

And calm as is the landscape in repose, 
And soft as sunny daytime at its close, 

A lady there ; 
Her face is with the autumn sadness sad ; 
The summer once was there, and made it glad, 

And left it fair. 

A lingering touch of gold upon the brown. 
As if the sun before its going down 

Had kissed her hair. 
And left the tender radiance of its rays, 
The golden blessing of an evening's praise. 

Forever there. 



I20 SEPTEMBER NOTES. 

Like heart' s-ease for their softness, but more blue, 
And in them olden memories made new. 

Her starry eyes ! 
With earnest look she heeded all my words. 
And like delicious melodies of birds 

Were her replies. 

Upon a hill we stood, 'twas round and green, 
And just below us, bathed in sunny sheen. 

Old Harewood lay ; 
There many a noble tree uprears its head, 
There acres of rich waving fields are spread, 

And stretch away. 

The beauteous flowers do their humble part, 
And with their graceful posies make to Art 

Sweet offerings. — 
Some songs in depth count naught, — in sweetness, 

all;— 
Some truths that from the lips of beggars fall 

Prove alms to kings. — 

We looked beyond the grave old forest trees, 
And in our hearts stirred ancient memories. 

Such gazing brings. 
My friend, upraising then a fragile hand. 
Said, '' Noble deeds than acres of rich land 

Are better things ! 



SEPTEMBER NOTES. I2i 

''And he who, in this time of greedy gain, 
Gives graciously as falls the summer rain, 

Without regret, 
May hope to win reward for after-days, 
And hear the blessed sound of heavenly praise. 

When men forget ! ' ' 

Then from a tree that near us cast its shade. 
Gushed music that by little birds was made. 

In one deep song ; 
And my friend thought (I read it in her face), 
*' How sweet to have no sorrow to retrace, 

Nor feel a wrong !" 

Then sang the birds, '* When all our work is done. 
We thank Him who divides the rain and sun 

With equal share !" 
I looked on that old home, dim in the wood. 
Like to a heart that's staunch, and true, and good. 

All silent there ! 

As messages that run on love's swift feet. 
Across the hill came laughter, cool and sweet, 

A glad refrain ! 
And following close came Effie through the grass, 
That bended down its blades to let her pass. 

Then rose again. 
II* 



122 SEPTEMBER NOTES. 

Her face with Qhildish mirth was all imbued, 
Her curls upon the breeze were amber-hued, 

Her form was round. 
We watched her as she climbed the shining hill, 
And through each heart there went a pleasant thrill. 

That made it bound. 

She laughed, and threw in handfuls at our feet 
Bright perfume-giving flowers, rich and sweet. 

As offering ; 
White chalices, by Nature's fingers wrought, 
Brimful of nectar, such as Hebe brought 

Unto her king; 

And pearly stars, and some of yellow too. 
And cups of lilies, deep to hold the dew, 

All silver-lined ; 
And roses with their petals blown apart 
As velvet smooth, and crimson to the heart. 

With green entwined. 

With flowers in our hands, we went our way. 
And in our hearts were thoughts as fair as they, 

In garlands bright ; 
As we strolled on, the zephyrs passed us by, 
And touched our lips, and murmured, with a sigh, 

'' Good-night ! good-night !" 



SEPTEMBER NOTES. 123 

Then Twilight opened out her purple wings, 
And in their shadow stilled the happy things 

That gayly sung. 
And soon, 'mid stars and clouds, all white and fair, 
Like to a ball of silver glittering there, 

The moon was hung. 

And then we took the road that leads to town. 
Crossed many a gentle slope, and grassy down, 

And dewy glade ; 
But I know best the hill on which we stood. 
That overlooks the home at old Harewood, 

Deep in the shade. 



GOOD-BYE TO 1869. 

Good-bye ! We will not see thee here again ! 

But we will meet 
When thou comest sweeping in that awful train 

Before the Judgment-Seat. 

Good-bye ! 

Good-bye ! Thy hands to us were gracious hands, 

We'll not forget! 
Toward the river shore of shadow lands 

Thy ancient bark is set. 

Good-bye. 

Good-bye ! Think not upon the deeds we rue ! 

But what is fair — 
Remember all that's sweet and pure and true, 

And offer it as prayer. 

Good-bye ! 

Good-bye ! We part from thee in tears, old friend! 
— Old friends are few, 
(124) 



GOOD-BYE TO 1869. 125 

To stand beside us faithful to the end, 
And greet with us the new ! 

Good-bye ! 

Good-bye ! With saddened eyes we see thee go : 

With hearts of pain — 
Thus ends all earthly love, full well we know — 

But we will meet again ! 

Good-bye ! 



THOUGHTS OF OTHER DAYS. 

When the hours are long and lonely, 

Full of shadows pale, 
Then I wander back in fancy- 
Over hill and vale ; 
Sit again beneath the branches 

Of the lofty trees ; 
Feel once moi^ the silent kissing 

Of the summer breeze ; 
Hear the laughing and the murmur 

Of the woodland stream, 
As it glides beneath the glimmer 

Of the sun-gold beam. 
And my hands are full of flowers 

Varying in hue, 
And I tell my fortune over. 

Thinking, dear, of you. 
Thus, whenever flowers fail me 

In the present days, 
I go back and find them blooming 

In the winding ways. 
(126) 



THOUGHTS OF OTHER DAYS. 

Climbing over rustic fences, 

Nodding by each cot, 
In the days I fondly cherish, 

Days that now are not. 
There the wild-brier sends its perfume 

On the gentle air. 
As a spirit meek and holy 

Offers up a prayer. 
In those sunny days of summer, 

Lying far behind. 
Branches of the woodbine linger, 

Waving in the wind, 
Scattering their tender blossoms 

O'er the grassy plain; 
As they flutter, still I gather 

Roses once again ! 



127 



MY CECIL AND I. 

My Cecil and I will wander 

Through a gateway made of stars, 

And floored with a sunset splendor 
Of purple and golden bars. 

And a thousand white-winged angels, 
That bear in their stainless hands 

Fair palms of a silver lustre, 

That grow in the God-King's lands. 

Will float with their song before us 

Far over the azure way. 
And under the arch of amber 

That leads to eternal day. 

There, clasping our hands together, 
Through the gateway in the sky, 

Ah, we will wander forever 
Together, my Cecil and I. 
( 128 ) 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 

The leaves are falling off the trees, 

Slow, one by one ; 
They are as saddest memories 

Of what is done. 

These autumn days, filled full with gold 

And balmy air, 
Are as the autumn days of old. 

So sweetly fair. 

The gathered glories of the past 

Are now unrolled ; 
Behold their glittering treasures cast 

Like autumn gold. 

They steal unto us through the shade 

Of purple eves. 

And on our souls their touch is laid 

Like faded leaves. 

12 (129) 



I30 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 

Retraced are all the steps we made, 

Through winding walks ; 
And 'mid the gloom of ancient shade 

Retalked our talks. 

Fair memories, stay! fold down each wing 

Like colored leaves ! 
Bright golden birds that coo or sing 

Beneath the eaves 

Of my great palace, towering high 

Above the sod. 
And almost reaching to the sky, 

The home of God ! 

Your songs shall make my life most sweet. 

And calm in peace, 
As Time goes by with speeding feet, 

And cares increase. 



A CHRISTMAS-EVE STORY. 



[In the little town of Port Mahon, in the island of Minorca, one of the 
Balearic Isles, they do not have a Kriss Kingle or Santa Claus, as we have, but 
on Christmas-eve the little children set their shoes on the window-sills and por- 
ticos, thinking tViat as the Princes pass with their offerings toward Bethlehem, 
they will drop into the waiting shoes some token of remembrance.] 



'TwAS the eve before the Christmas, 

And a tender, solemn calm 
Filled the air with its sweet presence, 

Like the touch of holy balm. 

'Mid the blue, and pearl, and crimson, 
The broad sun had sunk from sight, 

And the fair round moon came gliding 
Through the darker blue of night, — 

Like a silken-sailed vessel, 

When the waters are serene ; 

Like the lofty-treading Vashti 

Who of old was crowned queen. 

(131) 



132 



A CI/R/STMAS-EVE STORY. 

And like watchful eyes of angels, 

Or as flowers on the lea, 
Gleamed the stars in sacred silence 

O'er that land across the sea. 

In a wide and deep-arched chamber, 
Hung with folds of dark brocade, 

Traced with golden lance and buckler 
Worn in days of the Crusade, 

On a c:ouch with gorgeous drapings, 
Lay a l)oy, with shining hair 

As the gilt-edged clouds of summer 
When the days are very fair ; 

And his earnest eyes were watching, 
Through the open lattice-bars, 

For the coming of the angels 
Down a ladder wrought of stars. 

And two tiny shoes were waiting 
For some rich and jjrecious boon, 

Past the shadows of the window, 
In the silver of the moon. 



A CHRISTMAS- EVE STORY. 

As the princes passed toward Bethlehem, 
They would see them sitting there, 

And would heap them high with tokens 
Very beautiful and rare. 



In that grand ancestral chamber 

There was much to make life glad, — 

Were it not the boy were dying. 
And a woman's Reart was sad. 



There were sombre-tinted pictures, 
And a vase of strange device, 

Where a hand had carved the sorrow 
That had won the vase its price. 

Though his name was lost to memory, 
As a rose whose leaves are shed. 

On the vase was left the story 
Of the artist that was dead. 



O'er an antique-fashioned mirror 
Was a sword of great renown, 

That had slain a Moorish noble. 
And had hurled a Paynim down, 

12* 



^ZZ 



134 



A CHRISTMAS-EVE STORY. 

And a swinging lamp of amber 
Shed a radiance o'er tlie floor, 

Laid with scene of love and romance 
In the ages gone before. 

And a mother, pale as marble 
That portrays the sculptor's art, 

Bended low, because the anguish 
Struggled fiercely in her heart. 



With the dawn a fair life ended 
And a fairer life begun. 

And the little shoes held nothing 
Save the glimmer of the sun. 



IN MEMORIAM. 



FLORENCE TEMPLEMAN JONES. 



Through summer days that lay so gently round her, 
She slid, from loves that vainly would have bound her, 
From hearts and arms that fondly had enwound her. 

We would not call her back : there is no bliss here ! 
Yet tears will start as we bend o'er to kiss her. 
For in the coming time we'll surely miss her. 

In vain the tiny bird awaits her coming. 

Her pattering, restless feet, and prattled humming, 

The little flakes of bread of *' baby's" crumbing. 



Not with the dead the little Florence numbers ; 
This child that lies before us only slumbers. 
Nor earthly dream her baby-soul encumbers. 

Her spirit-bearers, in their upward winging — 
Bright angel guards — will wake her by the singing 
Of golden, glorious chants, forever ringing ! 



''NO MATTER." 

No matter how deep the snow-drifts, 
No matter how harsh the wind, 

There are days of Spring before us, 
And days of Summer behind. 

No matter if leaves of Autumn 
Fall dark and dead at our feet, 

Let us remember the flowers 

That came at their time, full sweet ! 

No matter if clouds should threaten. 
No matter how cold the rain. 

We know that the glorious sunlight 
Will shine on the world again ! 

(136) 



AFTER THE RAIN. 

After the rain, the sunshine! 

After the battle, peace! 
After abundant showers, 

Flowers of spring increase. 

After the rain of plenty 

Has fallen on a land, 
They who are loved of Heaven 

Give with unstinted hand. 

After the rain, the music 
Stirs the heart of the wood ; 

Following deeds of goodness, 
Praise from lips of the good. 

After a reign of sunshine, 
Grain that the reapers reap ; 

After a life of sorrow. 

Death, in the garb of sleep. 



(137 



138 AFTER rUK RAIN. 

After a weary journey 

Under the chastening rod, 

Rest in the Land of Angels, 
Peace in the Home of God 



^' GOD'S PROVIDENCE IS OUR IN- 
HERITANCE." 

God's providence is thy inheritance and mine! 

As tendrils round a sturdy mountain-pine 

Creep slowly upward for support, and cling, and twine, 

My heart trusts to His providence. Does thine? 

Turn not away thy hope, nor ever doubt, nor fear — 
His sweet protection reigns above us, dear ! 
Through all the space of time, from gliding year to year, 
God's providence is our protection here! 

God's providence is thy inheritance and mine ! 
With tenderness His radiant mercies shine, 
Shine gloriously and calm upon my path and thine, 
Always serene, and loving, and divine ! 

(139) 



IN MEMORIAM. 

Captain Joseph J. Henry, 
Oxford, Neiv yersey. 

From our vision passed his image 

As a dream, 
Or a graceful shallop sailing 

Down the stream ! 

Light, dispelling darkness, covers 

The dream o'er, 
And the shallop floateth outward 

From the shore. 

But a memory still will hover, 

As a dove, 
O'er our hearts, with sweet devotion, 

Peace, and love. 
(140) 



IN MEMORIAM. 

Let him rest : he fought his battle, 

Lived his life, 
Tasted gladness, felt deep sorrow, 

Mourned the strife ! 

Loudly rings the rolling volley 

O'er his grave. 
Honor to the youthful soldier, 

True and brave ! 

Gather flowers of the spring-time. 

Bright and fair; 
Weave them into glowing garlands ; 

Lay them there. 

Where the days of golden summer 

Lightly pass. 
As the waving plumes in battle, 

Waves the grass. 

Gather leaves of gorgeous autumn's 

Lovely dyes; 
Lay them where the dreaming soldier 

Silent lies. 
13 



141 



142 



IN MEMORIAM. 

Rear a column high, of marble 

Purely white ! 
His soul's symbol. Strong and Noble ! 

On it write. 



FOR EASTER-SUNDAY. 

The bells are ringing dulcet melodies, 
The flowers give their sweets with one accord, 
The sky is fair, with sunlight over all, 
To greet our Lord. 

Rejoice ! Our God is risen from the dead. 
His robes were glittering as a silver star ! 
And glorious music surged from out the gate 
That stood ajar. 

A million angels, clad in gleaming white. 
Sang: "Glory! glory! glory to our Lord!" 
Till blue and golden flowers trembled in the air 
That swept the sward. 

Ah ! sweeter than the sweetest summer songs 
That through the glades, and through the forests ring, 
Came seraph songs, as wide they flung the gate 
To greet their King. 

(H3) 



144 



FOR EASTER-SUNDA V. 



The sera]")h lays arc very sweet — but fiir 
I'he shilling train, is gone witliin the gate. 
We clasp our hands, we watch the breaking clouds, 
The while we wait. 



Below the sky, below all stars that shine, 
Below all things that much or little be ! — 
The least of earth— yet ah, trium})hant King! 
Forget not me ! 

O little Child so huml3le born and clad ! 
Sad Man whose heart bowed low in misery ! 
O Thou who walked in sorrow, crowned in thorns, 
Forget not me ! 

Risen above the world that's dark with sin, 
Save rays of light that come to us from Thee — 
O King upon the cross ! on earth, in heaven, 
Forget not me ! 



A SONG. 

To Fielder Bowie Chew, Georgetown, D. C. 

'Mid wearied clouds behold the sun decline ; 
The withered leaf slow flutters from the vine ; 
Low in the goblet lies the golden wine. 

Once gleamed those clouds; the sun bejeweled them 
With splendor far outvying earth's best gem — 
Fair as a kingly crown their diadem. 

Once shone that leaf in glittering emerald sheen, 
Touched gently by sweet zephyr-lips serene ; 
Softly it falls, and is no longer seen. 

The golden wine is ours ! Gone is half. 
Drive back the bitter tears ! Let us but laugh. 
Up with the goblet, — this is life we quaff! 

So may the daylight go, the sun decline ! 
Let fall the withered leaf from off the vine ! 
Drink to the lees the golden, sparkling wine ! 

I3-- (H5) 



A GLOVE THAT WAS FASTENED. 

The birds in the tree-tops were singing 
As if they were singing for pay, 

The leaves were so green and refreshing, 
That bright sunny morning in May. 

My ribbons were all in a flutter, 

My spirits were all in a play, 
And life seemed the color of roses. 

That bright sunny morning in May. 

I wished, as I gazed from the window, 
And sat in that pleasant coupee. 

Our lives might forever glide easy 

Through all the bright mornings of May. 

My kid glove, you know, would not fasten ; 

I recall your looks so distrait — 
I held out my hand, and you buttoned 

My glove, on that morning in May. 
(146) 



A GLOVE THAT WAS FASTENED. 

Some memories cluster as flowers, — 
A graceful, luxuriant spray, — 

All decking the lowlands or highlands 
The sunniest mornings in Ma)'. 

In silence one memory nestles. 
From all other thoughts far away : 

'Tis that of a glove that was fastened 
One bright sunny morning in May ! 



147 



*'LOVE CALLS THE WAY." 

Love calls the way ! 

But Love, you know, is blind, 

And cannot see who follows close behind, 

For Love is blind ! 

Love will not stay. 

For Love is most unkind, 

And fickle as the flower-scented wind. 

Love is unkind ! 



148 



OUR KING. 

" He raiseth the dead, and cureth all manner of diseases. A man of stature 
somewhat tall and comely, with a ver>' reverend countenance, such as the be- 
holder may both love and fear. It cannot be remembered that any have seen 
him laugh, but many have seen him weep." — Publius Lentulus, President 
in yudea. 

His wards, forever gracious, 

Tell of love ; 

As soft-toned as the cooing of a dove, 

Tender, and leal, and beautiful ! 

Like to the gold of morning 
Shines His hair ! 

His face with inspiration is most fair, 
Tender, and leal, and beautiful ! 

Not as we seem He sees us. 

What we are 

Shall doom our souls or crown them as a star, — 

Tender, and leal, and beautiful. 

(149) 



15° 



OUR KING. 

His teaching is in this wise : 
*' Follow me ! 

My mercy is as great Eternity, 
Tender, and leal, and beautiful. 

"Thou art as crooked rivers ; 

I THE SEA ! 

Towards the ocean must thy flowing be ; 
Tender, and leal, and beautiful ! 

*' Behold, the way is open ! 

I am He 

That robed as God of Heaven thou shalt see. 

Tender, and leal, and beautiful !" 



THROUGH THE TWILIGHT. 

The day of sunshine is gone by, 

The gray is o'er the blue ; 
Amid the shadows that abound, 

My thoughts go out to you. 

I've kept them in my heart all day ; 

Like birds they nestled there, 
And sang of you, in tender words, 

To a delicious air. 

But now the world is wrapt in mist. 

And worldlings may not see, 
I send my heart -birds through the space 

To sing to you of me. 



(151) 



OUR LADY OF LORETTO. 

The loveliest month of all months in the year — 
The brightest, the fairest we know — 

We offer to thee, yet unstained of a tear, 
Lady, our Queen of Loretto ! 

The roses and lilies we deem the most meet, 

Of all the earth-flowers that blow. 
To bind in a garland and lay at thy feet, 

Lady of lofty Loretto ! 

Let truth in our hearts, as a lily, unfold — 

The lily whose story we know — 
With leaves like the pearl, overwritten with gold, 

*'Mary," our Queen of Loretto ! 

Pure Lily of lilies ! Thou Queen of God's Court ! 

The tears of our penitence flow ; 
At the feet of our Father for mercy exhort, 

Mary, the Lady Loretto ! 

(152) 



OUR LADY OF LORETTO. 



153 



From world unto world cries of pained hearts arise, 

A wreathing of sorrow, of woe \ 
Of earth-broken hopes, 'mid a garland of sighs, 

To thee, the Queen of Loretto ! 

O Mary, our guide over land, over sea, 

Lead those who are weary to go 
To the palace of stars— to our God and to thee, 

Dove of our shrine at Loretto ! 



14. 



A PRAYER FOR FRANCE. 

Dedicated to Professor Henri Masson, ' 

God, drive back the foemen who gather — 

Ah ! check their advance ! 
Their hands have polluted the altars 

Of beautiful France ! 

Thou, God, art the Captain of Nations ; 

Thy smile or Thy frown 
May raise up an army, or hurl it — 

For evermore — down ! 

Confuse Thou the foemen who gather — 

Ah ! check their advance ! 
And, God, bless the Legions of Honor,- 
The children of France ! 
(154) 



NELLIE. 

Brown is her hair like an oak-leaf, 

Red are her lips, 
Like a rose where honey hideth 

The wild bee sips ! 

Ah ! brown did I say her hair is ? 

Gold is the ray, 
Touching the brown with its sunshine 

Bright as the day ! 

And thus many times I know not 

Whether most brown 
Or gold are the tresses waving 

So gracefully down. 

And she, the beauty, the fairy, 

Glideth along. 
As light as a young love floateth 
Out into song ! 

(155) 



A RAINBOW. 

The day its last sorrow was venting 

In drops from the blue ; 
I gazed on the cloud-rifts, expecting 

The sun to shine through. 

Through rain and through mist to a shelter 

A form swiftly came — 
Yet any one "caught by a shower" 

Would do just the same ! 

The shelter he sought is a porch-way, 

Low, shabby, and small; 
But since that young hero it shielded, 

It seems to me tall ; 

And when by fair moon-silver lighted, 

A temple of art — 
It ever shall hold in my memory 

A notable part. 

(156) 



A RAINBOW. 

But I have strayed far from my subject : 
A moustache of brown, 

And eyes that looked frequently upward 
When not looking down. 

He took from his pocket a meerschaum, 

And filled it with stuff 
The same as his moustache in color. 

And something like snuff. 

He smoked till a blue sort of vapor 
Around him was curled. 

And he looked like a spirit just landed 
From some other world. 



My meaning is but as I write it : 

A spirited joke — 
Let it end as the romance I tell you, 

In nothing but smoke. 

The clouds broke asunder, revealing 

A rich, tinted bow. 
Sent as a most beautiful promise 

To mortals below. 



157 



158 A RAINBOW. 

The violet, hued as its namesake 

That springs from the ground, 

Shone bright through the pearl-drifts that floated 
So lightly around. 

Like an archway of garlands, the rainbow 

I saw through the rain ; 
Then I lowered my gaze, and my thinking 

To mankind again. 

As I came back to earth from the heavens, 

The porch-hero went 
Round the corner, as if he regretted 

The time that was spent. 



A SIMPLE RHYME. 

Where the orchard grass is waving 

In a gush of golden light, 
Low reclines a rustic maiden ; 

Yellow is her hair, and bright. 

Like a wild-wood bird she singeth 
Underneath the orchard trees ; 

From her heart a voice is trilling 
Most delicious melodies. 

We remember songs of spring-time, 

Sung to us in days of yore. 
Sweeter than all other music. 

We hear now, or heard before. 

Sweeter than all other ballads 
Sounds each simple little rhyme, 

Floating through the doors of memory 
Down into the present time. 

(159) 



War Department Library 

Washington, D. C. 



J^o. 



^.S..H:. 



Losses or injuries 
must be promptly ad- 
justed. 

No books issued 
during the month 
of August. 

Time Limits : 
Old books, two 
weeks subject to 
renewal at the op- 
'tionof the Librarian. 
New books, one 
week only. 



ACME LIBRARY CARD POCKET 
Made by LIBRARY BUREAU, Boston 



KEEP YOUR CARD IN THIS POCKET 



